be:bop
by m-erechyn
Summary: Five drabbles inspired by songs on shuffle. Aziraphale/Crowley, with a bonus Anathema just because. A little wistful, a little sad, a little bittersweet. "Oh," said the angel dismissively. "Be-bop."
1. prelude

_Disclaimer: Good Omens and all the wonderful beings within do not belong to me. They belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, or vice versa... depends on which version of the cover you're looking at. No profit is being made, alas, I'm just having fun._

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Five drabbles, based on songs set to shuffle. Written for as long as the song was playing; edited up or down to 100 words after the first playing.

The artists are as follows:

Mika  
Regina Spektor  
The Postal Service  
The Killers  
Benny Benassi and the Biz

Each chapter is one drabble, based on one song. Enjoy!

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_Details of the meme can be found in my livejournal. Thanks for reading._


	2. any other world

_Any Other World_

They already know what they have is far from ordinary. Not many angels and demons find love, especially with each other.

They already know it's hard to say goodbye, especially to each other.

Aziraphale doesn't even try to hide the tears that are trickling fast down his cheeks for all of Heaven and Hell to see.

"Sorrow. It's only human," he says, eyes shining.

"We aren't human," Crowley retorts, covering his own face with a pale hand. His voice lacks the edge it normally possesses.

"I know," Aziraphale replies sadly, and they cling to each other in one last embrace.


	3. fidelity

_Fidelity_

Aziraphale doesn't like to talk about it, but Crowley knows he's not the angel's first love.

"The trouble with falling for humans is that they're human," Aziraphale says, when Crowley asks him about it. "They die."

The demon isn't sure how to respond.

"Is that what happened?" he asks. "She died?"

"Yes," Aziraphale replies. He looks down. Remembering.

"I won't die," Crowley says desperately. He takes the angel's hand, laces their fingers together.

"You won't," Aziraphale agrees quietly, and brushes his thumb against Crowley's, the small touch fully understood.

And then they are silent, communicating without words their eternal fears.

(After six millennia on earth, they both know even immortality is nothing, in the end)


	4. the district sleeps alone tonight

_The District Sleeps Alone Tonight_

Crowley curses this foolish co-dependence.

Only months ago he wouldn't let the angel into his _flat_, unless he came with alcohol or an emergency.

Now he lets Aziraphale into his _bed_, drinking and danger optional.

At least, he used to. It's not like that anymore.

Crowley has never had any problem with sloth, but tonight he finds his bed to be too big and cold and… lonely.

Tonight there is no soft body beside him. He is completely, quietly, alone.

He stares up at the ceiling, prepared for another sleepless night, and hopes Aziraphale will have a safe journey home.


	5. mr brightside

_Mr. Brightside_

Aziraphale thought he would've gotten used to it by now.

He'd rang the doorbell and when there was no response he'd unlocked the locks as easy as breathing, walking in immediately, worried that Crowley was injured or unconscious or worse, gone forever.

Aziraphale hadn't expected to see what he saw.

Though lust _was_ one of the seven deadly sins, and Crowley _was_ a demon.

He'd shut the door hurriedly before the two could notice his presence, though that was hardly necessary.

It had happened before. He really shouldn't have been so shocked.

Aziraphale never thought it would _hurt_ so much.


	6. let it be

_Let it Be_

Anathema isn't one to lie in the grass, but on a day like this it's practically inevitable.

She feels the weight of six thousand years beneath her bones, and the dust of six thousand more floating above her. The light paints streaks over her sun-starved skin.

She can hear things shifting, changing, twisting around her.

That was not the last Armageddon.

But Anathema doesn't want to think about such things on a day like this.

She breathes in, feels the universe in her lungs, time flowing backward and forward and then to the present again, and thinks: "let it be."


End file.
